Flash Friday Fiction Archives | Page 10 of 24

Flash Friday Fiction: And They Lived…

Posted on December 12, 2014 by Margaret — No Comments ↓

And They Lived… (158 words)

It was supposed to be for our celebratory toast, our clinking to a lifetime of love and happiness.

Instead, I’m nursing this pricey champagne and a broken heart. Such a cliche.

I drop the glass.

I’m a cliche. Thirty years old. Abandoned at the altar. No prospects on the horizon. No hope to go back to.

So I sit here, gazing out at the beautiful landscape. it’s what Hallmark would want me to do. Right?

Where’s my cowboy? Where’s my billionaire businessman? Where’s my noble knight on his royal steed?

You’re telling me I have to be the hero of my own story? Nobody is responsible for my happiness but me? Women need men like fish need bicycles?

If I have to live a cliche, I’d rather have the fairytale.

But life isn’t fiction. There are no convenient plot twists, no guarantee of a happily ever after.

There’s just me, and this glass. Both shattered.

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Thus sprach Zarathustra. Oops, wait. I mean, thus begins YEAR 3 of Flash Friday Fiction, people! Isn’t it awesome? Isn’t it amazing what people can do with only 150 (+/-10) words? Pop on over and show us some love, or submit your own teensy tinesy story!

And Now For Something Completely Different: THE PACT, A Short Story Collaboration

Posted on December 8, 2014 by Margaret — No Comments ↓

When writer extraordinaire Nillu Nasser Stelter asked me to take part in a short story collaboration, I was beyond flattered. Nillu knows me from my Flash Friday Fiction scribblings, but for her to consider me worthy enough to join these other esteemed writers in producing original fiction? Talk about a confidence booster!

So please read The Pact – part one is up today, in which my small section is shared, with the other parts to follow. And let me know what you think!

Flash Friday Fiction (It’s Flashversary Time!): A Woman Scorned

Posted on December 5, 2014 by Margaret — 2 Comments ↓

Red Sunset. CC2.0 photo by Petteri Sulonen.

A Woman Scorned (150 words)

Her heart burned with the rage of a million fires, consuming every memory, every last bit of love she’d had left.

He’d promised her – promised her – eternal devotion. A lifetime of happiness. A bond that could never be severed.

Hah.

What would he say now, if he could see the havoc she’d wreaked? This path of destruction, fueled by wrath so intense it would scorch the sun?

He never would. She’d made sure of that. Let his ashes smolder in the ruins. Of their bond. Of his betrayal. Of this city.

Never again would a man hold such power over her.

She knew she was catering to the stereotype. Vengeful woman, wronged by man, seeks retribution. So be it.

Daddy issues, they’d said. An unnatural attachment. Whatever. He shouldn’t have remarried; he was hers alone.

Hell hath no fury, they say. But it does have a new daughter.

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Woo hoo, peeps! It’s FLASHVERSARY! Meaning the beloved Flash Friday Fiction contest is turning THREE, and Our Lady Dragoness Rebekah Postupak is going all out to celebrate. There’s, like, prizes and everything for this grand round’s winner, and all sorts of other cool stuff, so please head on over to check it out, read the stories, and comment on your favorites (please! We writers are a neurotic lot, and a little encouragement goes a long way).

I’d love to know what you think of my offering!

Flash Friday Fiction – Weathered Patterns

Posted on November 28, 2014 by Margaret — No Comments ↓

Your Hand in Mine/Goodbye. CC2 photo by Tony.

Weathered Patterns – 154 words

She drowned me in tempests of her own making, the waves coming faster as the years seemed to slow. Caught in her currents, we’d swirl and crash, dragging each other down in whirlpools of words, our barbs like fish hooks we’d repeatedly cast.

I couldn’t imagine a time when the waters would calm, when the murky surface wouldn’t hide adolescent icebergs I’d bang into at unexpected moments. I was a ship caught in her ocean, a personal Titanic battling the forces of her nature.

One time in the middle of a downpour, she handed me an umbrella. “I love you, mom,” she’d said, her eyes misty in the center of repeated hurricanes.

What I wouldn’t give to spy her on my horizon, to let her crest and break in my arms. But the tide never changed for us. She succumbed to her own inner maelstrom, and I’m marooned on this island of grief.

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Happy Thanksgiving! I’m grateful for YOU, and for the opportunity to draft a bite-sized story in the midst of leftovers and Black Friday shopping. Good thing I didn’t feel the need to go out to the stores, considering how long it took me to create this tiny tale. Let me know what you think, and come give some love to the other Flash Friday writers. We’ll be grateful with gravy on top, I swear!

Flash Friday Fiction: Gone to the Dogs

Posted on November 21, 2014 by Margaret — 1 Comment ↓

caruso_with_phonograph2 — Caruso with phonograph, early 1900s. Baen photo owned by LOC; no known restrictions.

Gone to the Dogs – 158 words

“You ain’t nothin’ but a Hound Dog, cryin’ all the time.”

I shudder to think what Mr. Edison would say if he knew the crimes this phonograph committed on a daily basis. Screeching instruments of some sort or another, caterwauling of the worst kind.

“Bow wow wow yippee yo yippee yay, bow wow yippee yo yippee yay.”

I have no doubt Aunt Myrtle did this. That crazy old bird was always up to one nasty trick or another. Even after death, her ashes are somehow wreaking havoc on my beloved music player. She knew I despise canines.

“They called it Puppy Love.”

Gone are the days of Mamie Smith, Louis Armstrong. Duke Ellington. All I hear now are the endless barks of humans masquerading as singers.

“The dog days are over…”

Yet I play it again, and again, hoping each time for something new. Something different.

“Who let the dogs out? Who who who who who?”

Doggone it.

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Woowee, boys and girls! I’m back in the Flash Friday competition, having hung up my judge’s gown last week (I kind of want it back; it’s cold in here!). At first I had no idea what I was going to do with this photo prompt, until I saw that Our Lady Dragoness had requested we include something about a puppy. Suddenly I saw Elvis Presley singing to that hound dog back in 1956, and the rest of the 150 (+/-10) word story flowed from there.

What do you think? Am I in the doghouse for this one? Hop on over to Flash Friday to leave comments and read the other excellent entries this week!